Gin Rummy
by Gray Glube
Summary: They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

**A/N:** So I kind of wanted to do a series of connected drabbles/ficlets, they're all set in the same universe and in essence they focus on a Tate, Violet, Michael dynamic, it's shifts between Tate and Violet with the subject of the drabble as the other or as Michael. The reason why I'm not doing a third person Michael perspective is the same reason why the boy and girl in my _Toska_ don't have names, I'm sure Jandy will know what I mean. It's not linear as a whole.

* * *

Marcy thinks it's the result of easy access and shithead teenagers.

It's not.

It's the result her being stuck in the same place forever and knowing it.

That, and a bottle of lighter fluid paired with a lit cigarette.

Chad takes it pretty hard seeing as the drapes were not, in his opinion, completely dreadful before she lit them on fire.

It's not who _he_ would have chosen to be her confidant instead of him but Chad's gay, and that's something to put his mind at ease at least.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

**A/N:** So for the most part this was meant to be one straight forward oneshot instead of drabbles strung together but I kind of like playing with ways to tell a story every once in awhile.

* * *

It's not that he looks like someone else, not completely anyway.

It's that he's alive and something else without any of the downsides either come with on their own.

He doesn't need to whisper with a disembodied voice in someone's ear to cause a violent reaction.

All he does is suggest and the reaction happens, it's usually violent but not in the same sense as what happens when the whisper comes from a ghost. When a ghost does it the chair the person is sitting in usually rockets back and they usually spin wildly looking for something they won't find, usually there're gasps and fear.

Not with him.

He suggests in easy languid tones and they _obey_. Because they want to.

His babysitter walks out into the street, right out into it where kids just out of school for the day do sixty down a residential and she flies up and flops down on the asphalt in the only way flesh and bone flies and flops when thrown by two tons of metal and too much moving force.

The velocity and impact sends her shoes in opposite directions, one lands on the front lawn and the other disappears over a neighbor's back fence.

Violent in a completely different sense.

He's ten years old and they zip the girl up in a body bag leaving her shoes where they lay and her teeth and majority of her face streaked across black asphalt and the dashed white line.

And as he gets older she thinks about it.

It's not that he looks like some else, more with every year, not completely.

It's that he's so much like everyone stuck in the house and so much else at the same time.

It's that when he speaks people listen, people do, people want.

She can hear him, and even though she's dead, even though she knows it's not the same for any of them in the house as it is for the living outside it, she listens too.

The difference is what she does. What she _wants_.

It feels like it did before, with the boy she loved, loves, hates, in confusing quantities at the best of times. But there's something else.

There always is.

Before when she was alive with a dead boy it was attraction she felt, she feels it now but it's different.

It always is.

Because she's dead maybe, or because the boy who looks too much like the one who fathered him is _alive_, or because they're all something else, monsters; her, the boy she loved loves hates, and the boy next door who gets to grow up.

The something else is what other people would feel if they were attracted without that edge of fear that no doubt creeps in when he talks or stares or comes into their space.

She supposes it's the being dead that makes fear less of a factor than it used to be, just how she supposes the house means something to the boy living next to it in similar terms of what it means to her.

It means living.

But not in the same way. For her it means _living_. For the boy who lives so close it means living the way he _wants_.

Power is what it means.

More than simply wanting, there is want, because he looks like someone else, there's something so much more deeply rooted in her that needs.

Something that craves and whispers and smiles because it knows she's already dead so a missive from the boy to go do just that is null and void.

Something that knows if she says hello to the boy peeking over the fence one day that he wouldn't run away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

**A/N:** I will eventually get back to rec-ing stories, probably with my next oneshot fic.

* * *

Despite his best attempts none of his little schemes, and they _are_ schemes, deliver what he really wants.

They don't open the way for dialogue between them.

They don't lead to a violent encounter where she kills him.

They don't cause any sort of new internal struggle for her to cope with.

They don't deliver her to him ready to talk and fight and fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

* * *

He's jerking off. There's that distinctive sound; the _fhup fhup fhup_ of it and the damp smack, like someone's popping wide a pout with their mouth, as his loose fist hits into the space between his hips, the spot on a boy's body that's punctuated and outlined with lines of muscle that make a 'V,' she sees the irony in the idea.

_V for Violet._

And he's smothering all the guttural noises he always makes as best he can but it's not like it helps, the sound rattles around in his chest like a growl and her body heat spikes like a solar flare and there's slickness between her thighs that's dampening the crotch of her underwear.

He took her virginity on a day like this a long time ago up in her bedroom in the middle of a California sun streaked afternoon. The day after her mother tried to get them away from the house, she remembers the bleary way not sleeping for so long felt, she was too tired and slurred her words like she was drunk, swayed when she stood and sat back down on the bed heavily and pulled him over with her fingers curled over and down into the waist of his jeans, the thin stretch of skin over his hip bones hot against her knuckles.

It hurt but she knew it would, told him it didn't when he asked later, told him it was _intense_. She wonders if he'd known she'd been talking about him too, as well as the act in and of itself.

Afterwards there was one more time and before long she couldn't stomach the idea that she had done it with him, let alone doing it again.

But there's a perpetual curiosity that lingers about it, she'd always figured that once she'd lost her virginity that she'd be gaining sex, but things haven't quite worked out. Anyone else doing anything else with her in ways that go beyond simple and chaste shoulder pats and one armed embraces will be ruined by him getting there first and her wishing he'd stayed there.

Some days she wants a return payment on it, she wants him to slither up and inside and at least for a little while give her something that isn't grief.

She's just proud enough to slap the sentiment off and pretend it doesn't bother her that he might have made her mother come when he been inside her but she's left never even having had that much from him.

It takes a long time to fall asleep with the unsatisfied ache pounding between her legs; she pretends it isn't there and shoves her hands under her pillow, keeping them there with the weight of her head on top.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

* * *

He's twelve when tells her what the inside of a carved out dog looks like (the back side of chicken breast bone in red relief, like a scrubbing board)

She smiles and blows out a cloud of blue smoke telling him to bring her a souvenir next time, she still feels hungry sometimes, even though she shouldn't and there's no new family in the house yet to stock the fridge that's long since been empty and unplugged in the absence of living residents.

A week later there's a blue lid Tupperware container sitting on the kitchen island. She's going to give it back because she thinks it's a kidney but Moira informs her that it is in fact a liver, the perpetually surly looking maid appears disgusted at the little gift but saunters off in her squeaking orthopedics and mop bucket without further conversation.

It's chewy and slick in the beginning, sweetness and a hint of grit.

Its blood and ash in her mouth, her jaw hurts when she's finished because it's tough to chew.

But, it's surprisingly easy to stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author: **grayglube

**Title: **Gin Rummy

**Summary: **They're a suited King, Queen, Jack set. They're Aces strung together. One type of different things or different types of one thing.

**Rating: **M

**Warning(s)/Kink(s): **Language, sexual situations, incest

* * *

There's a part of her that longs for the symmetry of being the one to take his virginity, like Tate took hers.

But a much bigger part is relieved that he's not so pure.

He fucks her like Tate might have if they'd ever kept it up in abandoned bedrooms and against the dusty attic hardwood and in more inventive locations once they outgrew being modest enough to care if someone saw them.

There are times when she looks at him flushed and damp and panting breaths across her mouth and thinks that he could be his brother.

And then she remembers that he's actually hers.

But she stares at his mouth and realizes that it leaves marks the same shape of someone else's on her body.


End file.
